
A\ 



ADDRESS 



l>i:i.lVEI!EU (i>- THi: 



CONSECRATION 



WORCESTER RURAL CEMETERY, 



SEPTEMBER 8, 133G. 



BY LEVI LINCOLN. 



iS onion: 

BUTTON AND WENT WORTH, PRINTERS, 

Nos. 10 and 12 Exchange Street. 

1838. 




Glass. 
Book. 









"4 



AN 



ADDRESS 



y/ 



DELIVERED ON THE 



CONSECRATION 



WORCESTER RURAL CEMETERY, 



SEPTEMBER 8, 1838. 






^"^ ■. 



BY LEVI LINCOLN. ^^^.^ 



3S IS t n : 

DUTTON AND WENTWORTH, PRINTERS, 

Nos. 10 anil 12 Exchange Street. 

1838. 



^^i'^ 



\JC' 



fr\ 13^caH. 



WORCKSTER, SEPTEMBER 8, 1S38. 

To the Hon. Levi Lincoln : 

I linve the lionor officially to communicate to you the followiii;; vote of the 
Trustees of the Rural Cemetery, passed at their meeting, this day. 

" Voted : That the thanks of the Trustees be presented to the Hon. Levi Lin- 
coln, their President, for the eloquent and interesting Address, delivered l)y him, 
this day, at the consecration of the Rural Cemetery in Worcester : and that he 
be respectfully requested to furnish a copy for publication."' 

With respectful regard, 

I am yours, iVc, 

WILLL\M LINCOLN, Srxrctanj. 



To the Secretary of the Trustees 

of the Worcester Rural Cemetery : 

The Address, which the Trustees of the Cemetery Groimds have been pleased 
to honor wilh an expression of their approbation, was induced by a respectful def- 
erence to the wishes of those, who invited the service, and a faithful desire to mani- 
fest the sympathy of personal regard for the accomplishment of an object, which 
had become deeply interesting to the feelings of others. 

It was hasiily prepared, under many circumstances of embarrassment, and with- 
out a thought, that its impression would reach beyond the moment of delivery. 

To its local and personal references, so cherished of memory and friendship, I 
ascribe the kindness wilh which it was received, and the flattering request for 
its publication. If the copy will add any thing to the gratilication of those to whom 
it was addressed, it is gratefully due to their indulgent estimate of its interest, and 
through you, I herewith, respectfully submit it to their disposal. 

LEVI LINCOLN. 

Worcester, Sept. 12, 1838. 



ADDRESS. 



We are assembled, my Friends, upon an occa- 
sion as impressive as it is novel. We come from 
the bustling scenes of business, from the crowded 
streets, the noisy resorts of labor or of pleasure, 
to this secluded grove, the quiet repose of nature ; 
to that stillness and peace, which reigns uninter- 
rupted by the controversies of the world, and is 
undisturbed by the restless strivings and the un- 
satisfied competitions of men. We have retired, 
for a few^ moments, from all customary engage- 
ments, to select the spot, where, when we shall 
be separated from the mighty congregation of the 
living, our remains shall rest, and our names be 
inscribed with the mightier congregation of the 
dead. Here, in the quiet and retirement of the 
place, with the clear blue sky over our heads, and 
the green turf beneath our feet, surrounded by the 
primaeval forest, the pure brook, and the unchang- 
ed works of the Creator, we may devote our hearts 
to sober contemplation, and the expression of our 
lips to thoughts, which may profit us now, and 
will be well for us, hereafter, and forever. 



6 

It has been the care of all ages of the world, 
and of all nations of men, to mark with tokens of 
affection and respect, the disposition of the re- 
mains of the dead. The funeral pile has been 
erected, that their ashes might be gathered to the 
sacred urn. The process of embalming has been 
applied to preserve the body from decay. The 
Sarcophagus and the Tomb have kept precious 
relics long in the remembrance of the bereaved. 
The Cenotaph, the monumental Column, and the 
broken Shaft point to the repose of Heroes, and 
Patriots, and public Benefactors, while the simple 
Head-Stone marks the spot, where unobtrusive 
merit and humble worth find a burial place. 
Garlands and flowers have strewed the Bier of 
Youth and Beauty and Innocence, and the Willow 
and the Cypress are the recognized emblems of 
the tenderness of wounded affection, and the fidel- 
ity of unsolaced grief ; and where there was 
naught but the new raised earth to denote the 
place of interment, the tear of the Mourner has 
made fresh the sod of the Grave. Here, then, 
we pause, to ponder upon the purpose of our 
meeting together ; to contemplate the solemn still- 
ness of the scene ; to summons to this now conse- 
crated spot the hallowed associations of the living 
with the dead ; for here, in future, shall be traced 
the inevitable connexion of the one with the other. 

The mighty Rivers flow not more certainly to 
the Ocean, than all, which are of time, are surely 
gathering to eternity. Where now, are the People 



and Nations, which dwelt, in ancient days, on all 
the face of the Earth ? Where the great, and the 
powerful, who erected Monuments, and built Cities, 
and constructed Palaces to endure forever, and 
bear their names and their glory through the cur- 
rent of continuing time ? Where the Palaces, and 
the Cities, and the Monuments themselves ? Alas, 
for the old world ! — its only record is in the Del- 
uge of Waters ! And for the Postdiluvian ages ; 
how stands the account with them ? Man and the 
works of man's hands have fallen together. From 
the most ancient to the most recent ; from the 
Pyramids of Egypt to the frailest works of human 
device, the walled City, the Tower of strength, 
the Senate House and the Market Place, the resorts 
of business, " where men most do congregate," 
with the men themselves, have already yielded, or 
are fast hastening to decay. This is the inevitable 
doom. Rare memorials, now and then discov- 
ered, tell of generations which have passed away, of 
arts, and sciences, and conditions of civilization 
and refinement, marking periods of intellectual 
cultivation and improvement, now lost to the 
knowledge of the world. The fullest record, 
which could be furnished of the great family of 
Man, of the millions upon myriads of millions 
from creation down, would be but an imperfect 
registry of the almost infinite multitude, who have 
been horn to die ; less even, in the comparison, than 
the brief remembrance of a name, when contrasted 



with the busy scenes, the exciting interest, the 
active and engrossing duties of the longest life. 
Where now, in our own recently discovered Coun- 
try, are the Pilgrim Fathers of the Land ? Where 
their Descendants, in successive generations, down 
to our own age, or that of our immediate Progeni- 
tors ? Go with me, my Friends, to the neighbor- 
ing Church Yard, not i\\e first, neither the second, 
within the short period of the settlement of the 
Town, but to that, which was laid out within the 
remembrance of many of us, to serve the occasion 
of the population for coming generations, as was 
thought, now, in our own day, tenanted to the 
full, and closed, from its very preoccupancy, to the 
admission of new families. Forty two years since, 
and he who now addresses you, then a satchelled 
School Boy, stood by the side of a new made 
grave, in what was designated, and has been since 
known, as the new Burying Ground. It was open 
to receive the corpse of a tender and interesting 
Child, a victim to the ravages of a fatal epidemic, 
which, in that memorable year of 1796, cut down 
the bright hopes and made desolate the fond hearts 
of many Parents. The place seemed almost well 
chosen for security from the contagion of the pesti- 
lence. It appeared then, a secluded and bye spot, 
and scarce near enough to the settlement of the 
village to be conveniently accessible, in the incle- 
ment season of the year. The records of the 
Town show, that the lot contains less than one acre 



9 

and an half of land. It was originally set apart from 
a much more considerable tract of public pro- 
perty, and no other reason can be assigned for the 
narrow limits to which it was restricted, than the 
prevailing opinion, that its use could not soon, if 
ever, be needed. Count you now, the numbers, 
which forty years have gathered to the company 
of that little one. Which of iis, then Inhabitants of 
the Town, finds not the inscription of his family 
name, on the grave stone of some departed Rela- 
tive ? There, whole families have been garnered 
together. There, he who marked the lone and 
solitary Grave of the Infant, now reads the me- 
mentos of three generations of his own kindred, 
Grandfather, Father, and Brother, in near prox- 
imity to each other. But I forbear these painful 
reminiscences. They come home to many of us, 
with too melancholy freshness for personal self-pos- 
session. The lesson, which they impress, is full 
of instruction. It teaches the shortness of time and 
the worth of its improvement, the value of life and 
the vanity of the world ; — the importance of the 
acquisition of treasures of knowledge, and moral 
virtue, and Christian graces, here, that they may 
furnish a Store House of Happiness for future pos- 
session, and enduring enjoyment, hereafter. 

Having incidentally adverted to q. first, and second, 
Burying Ground, it may not be deemed inappro- 
priate to the occasion, that I briefly recur to the 
history of their location. The earliest interment 
2 



10 

was ill 1717, and is supposed to have been, on 
what is now the school lot, at the corner of Thom- 
as and Summer Streets. The remains of 28 per- 
sons, according to several published accounts, 
and of 30, by some traditions, were deposited 
there, previous to the year 1730, when the Bu- 
rial Ground upon the Common, was opened for 
use. What proportion this mortality bore to the 
existing population, for the intermediate period of 
13 years, it is now difficult to ascertain, or where- 
fore the abandonment of the spot, after so frequent 
occupation. Within the observation of many pre- 
sent, it seemed to be an appropriate and fitting 
place for interment. The ground was sufficiently 
elevated and dry, and primaeval oaks cast thickly 
their shadows over the rude mound of earth, and 
simple stone heap, which marked the rest of the 
departed. We may only now conceive, that in 
the paucity of settlement, and the obstruction, 
which, in that early day, the low meadow and 
the swelling stream might occasionally have inter- 
posed to passage and communication, convenience 
suggested a new selection, and thus, the original 
site of the place of sepulture was changed. But 
how striking the thoughts suggested by the con- 
trast, which that change has occasioned ! Instead 
of the loneliness, and sad and solemn stillness 
of the Grave Yard, all there, is now teeming with 
life, and jocund with health, and hope, and enjoy- 
ment. The youth unconsciously frolics over the 



11 

ashes of those, who planted civilization in the wil- 
derness, and subdued the roughest works of na- 
ture to the noblest purposes of human art. In the 
accomplishment of that highest of moral objects, 
effected by the virtue of our ancestors, the provi- 
sion by law for the maintenance of free schools, it 
was declared, that their establishment was " to 
the end, that learning might not be buried in the 
Graves of our Forefathers, in Church and Com- 
monwealth," and here, on the very Graves of the 
Forefathers of Worcester, has Learning reared its 
Temple, and Science and Education are reading 
lessons of wisdom, derived alike, from acquisitions 
of knowledge and the laws of nature. Instead of 
the Trees of the primitive Forest, there, is planted, 
and watered, and nourished, that Tree, the foliage 
of which never withers, and the fruit of which is to 
eternal life. It is no offensive desecration of the 
spot, that the School House has been reared on 
the site of the Burial Place, for the sweetest me- 
morials of the dead are to be found in the admoni- 
tions they convey, and the instructions they give, 
to form the characters, and govern the conduct, of 
the living. I am aware, indeed, that vulgar pre- 
judice and ignorant superstition have, sometimes, 
attached a mysterious inviolability to the Tomb : — 
that, even the neglected earth of the Grave Yard 
has been so regarded, that cultivation or ornament 
would be pronounced a sacrilegious invasion of its 
sanctity. I may be pardoned, the recital of an 



12 

anecdote in illustration of the remark. It was but 
a few years since, that in the execution of an order 
of the Town for the removal of the School House 
near the Common, from the acclivity of the ledge 
of rocks in front of the Baptist Meeting House to 
the level and more commodious site, at the foot of 
the Hill, this prejudice was singularly manifested. 
It happened to me to be associated in that service, 
as an incident to other duties, with a respected 
Fellow Citizen. On the morning after we had 
designated the precise spot on which the Building 
was to be placed, and had directed the preparation 
of the foundation, that Gentleman called upon me, 
in much alarm, with information, that serious 
threats of personal violence, and of the destruction 
of the House itself, had been uttered, should the 
contemplated removal be made. It was represent- 
ed, that the ground over which the foundation was 
to be laid, contained several ancient Graves, which 
public sympathy would not permit to be thus vio- 
lated. Although these Graves, if indeed any were 
there, were without monuments, and of strangers 
whose names even were unknown, yet, upon in- 
quiry, I found no little excitement on the subject, 
in the minds of several worthy people, and espe- 
cially those of color, who apprehended, that the 
site covered the remains of some of their race. It 
was in vain, that the convenience and appropriate- 
ness of the selected location were insisted upon, 
and the consideration urged, that, in placing the 



13 

foundation for the Building, the depth of no grave 
would be reached, and the remains of no person 
could be disturbed. The objectors yielded nothing 
to the force of these suggestions. I then appealed 
to their regard for the uses of the edifice, and 
beg'd them to reflect, that it was devoted to the 
noblest of all purposes, instruction in that know- 
ledge, which was, itself, the best preparation for 
death ; and that so glorious should I deem a like 
monument to my memory, that I w^ould then wil- 
lingly consent, that a School House should be 
erected over my remains. And so it was agreed. 
Either satisfied by the proposition, or ashamed of 
the unreasonableness of the interference, the ob- 
jection was withdrawn. The School House was 
removed to the place where it now stands, and 
upon the point of the agreement, if I may be per- 
mitted to have, in this rural Cemetery, a Grave, 
the Association need little fear, that the furm of the 
monument will ever violate any of their restrictions. 
A reservation and Grant by the original Proprie- 
tors of the Town, were the source of the location, 
near the Common, of the second, or what is termed, 
by way of eminence, the " Old Burial Ground." 
The grant was of a larger tract, for a Training 
Field. Under what authority, or by what process 
of encroachment, part of the lot became appropri- 
ated to its present use, cannot now be traced. It 
was recognized as a place of Burial, as early as 
1730, when the first interment was made there. 



14 

With this spot are associated the tenderest recol- 
lections of our aged inhabitants. There rest the 
remains of many of those who strove together in 
the work of the settlement of the Town, of those 
who endured the privations and sufferings conse- 
quent upon its defence, and the protection of 
themselves and their families from Indian incur- 
sions and massacre ; and of those also, with scarce 
a surviving remnant, who in a later period, en- 
countered the hardships and perils of the revolu- 
tionary conflict, and sought peace and security for 
themselves, only through the achievement of their 
country's freedom and Independence ; Bands of 
devoted Christians, faithful Patriots, and self-sacri- 
ficing men, of a rank of merit and moral worth, 
such, as in no age, was ever excelled. To them and 
their blood, the present generation is almost a 
stranger. The direct lineal descendants of these 
men among us, are but as a handful. Time and 
mortality which have cut off some families; change 
of worldly circumstances which has caused the 
removal elsewhere, of others ; and that influx of 
new population, which business and the spirit of 
enterprize introduce to a favorable position for 
employment ; have left but few, who can now claim 
affinity to the Tenants of that ancient Church 
Yard. It were happy, if there were more, to take 
an interest in its fitting appearance ; to replace the 
decayed monument ; to revive the eflfaced inscrip- 
tion upon the tombstone ; to pluck the wild weed, 



15 

the briar, and the thistle, from beside the Grave, 
and phmt there instead, the rose, the laurel, and 
the evergreen. It were well even, that veneration 
for the character of these pilgrim settlers of the 
soil ; valiant defenders of liberty ; generous bene- 
factors of their race ; should secure from their 
posterity a quiet repose to their ashes, which the 
recklessness of change shall not hereafter disturb, 
nor the wantonness of mischief violate. Let, at 
least, the newly planted tree be spared, to throw 
its shadow over their graves. Let the walls of the 
enclosure be in keeping with the sacred occupancy 
of the place, and may no sentiment of the living 
intrude there, but of grateful respect for the vir- 
tues, and to the memory, of the dead. 

The principal place of interment is now the 
public Burial Ground, a short distance South East 
from the densely settled part of the Town, on the 
Pine meadow Road, purchased and laid out in 
1828. Although the situation was originally well 
chosen, yet it has recently become objectionably 
exposed and common, by reason of the E,ail-road, 
which passes directly through it. The area of 
ground which it contains, would probably be suffi- 
ciently large for all occasions of use, for many 
years to come ; and were there no other cause, 
than its limits, for further provision, generations 
might pass away, before necessity would demand 
a new location. 



16 

Two other Grave Yards, one in the southern, 
and the other in a northerly section of the Town, 
have also recently been devoted to the reception 
of the remains of the dead. 

With this reference to the past, and this account 
of the ample public provision for the present, it 
might pertinently be inquired, why has this Asso- 
ciation of the Rural Cemetery been formed, and 
the preparation of a new Burial Place, with so soli- 
citous care, and at such extraordinary expense, 
been made ? Neither time, nor regard for the ex- 
posure of this Assembly while I detain them in 
the open air, would permit, in this place, an elab- 
orate answer to the inquiry. Nor, to those present, 
is the explanation necessary. A few months only 
have passed away, since most of us listened with 
delight, to an expression of sentiments and a reci- 
tal of motives, from eloquent lips and in the mov- 
ing language of the heart, directly applicable to 
the arrangements, which we have now met to 
sanction. In a lecture addressed to the Lyceum, 
at the commencement of the last course, by the 
late lamented Mr. Bangs, an interesting view was 
taken of the subject of Cemeteries generally, and 
especial reference made to the exposed and ne- 
glected condition of the public Grave Yards of the 
Country. The discourse itself, was an illustration 
of those feelings of affection for the memory of lost 
Friends, and of respect for the character of depart- 
ed worth, such as the relation of kindred delights 



17 

to cherish, and veneration for excellence will seek 
to make manifest. The thought and the expression 
were in beautiful accordance with the pure moral 
and manly character of the author. He manifested, 
through life, singular simplicity in the practice of 
exalted virtues. With talents of a high order, 
strengthened and enriched by intellectual attain- 
ments, a refined and cultivated taste, and a quick 
sense of propriety, his was a devoted regard to 
duty, which made means and capacity for useful- 
ness sources of persontd enjoyment, securing, in 
their exercise, pleasure to himself, while confer- 
ring gratification and benefits upon his Fellow 
men. To public trusts he Avas most faithful ; in 
acts of private beneficence most liberal. He was 
a native of the town, but had long been absent in 
the service of the state, and in his premature and 
sudden death, it seemed almost, as if he had re- 
turned among us, but to give his last effort to an 
object, w^hich had he lived to its accomplishment, 
would doubtless have secured a spot for a monu- 
ment to his name, where the remembrance of his 
worth will long remain, in cherished and grateful 
association with the visible memorials of others. 
For many years, Mr. Bangs w^as my intimate pro- 
fessional and political associate, and personal 
friend, the esteemed neighbor of some, and the 
valued acquaintance of most of you, and in the re- 
collection of his last public oflice of kindness to 
us all, awakened by the circumstances of this oc- 

3 



18 

casion, I trust, I shall be excused a sigh for his 
loss, and the digression of this passing, but hum- 
ble tribute of affection and respect, to his mem- 
ory. 

Rural Cemeteries are not the suggestions of 
artificial taste, or the work of modern innovation. 
They come from the moving impulses of the heart, 
and are common to all times and to all people. 
We learn from history, that with the ancient Egyp- 
tians, it was the general practice to bury the dead 
beyond the confines of their cities. The burial 
places of the Jews were in the country, upon the 
highways, in gardens, and upon mountains. The 
Greeks and Romans reared their monuments 
among groves, and planted rose trees upon the 
graves, without the w^alls but near the great ave- 
nues to their cities. In the days of chivalry and 
Romance, the grave was made by the green bank, 
or under the shadowy foliage of some spreading 
tree, where the gurgling of the stream and the 
murmuring breeze chanted sweet requiems to the 
manes of the departed. Affliction there consigned 
to solitude, deep as the seclusion of the desolate 
heart, the lost objects of worldly affection, and in 
the solemn calm of undisturbed nature, memory 
held converse with the spirits of the dead. " The 
primitive Christians," says the learned Doct.Rees, 
" did not allow of burials in cities, for the first 
three hundred years, nor in churches for many 
years after." It was, at last, but a device of the 



19 

priests to extort money from the faithful, under the 
pretext of buying rest for their souls, which, in the 
times of Popish superstition, made sepulchres of 
churches, and sold the right to interment in con- 
secrated burial places. The Chinese, to this day, 
erect their tombs without their cities " upon hills 
covered with pines and cypress." The beauty of 
the Mohammedan burial grounds is said to ex- 
cite the admiration of every traveller. A late 
writer on cemeteries asserts, that " the Afghans," 
(a People of Persia,) call their cemeteries " the 
cities of the sile?it, and hang garlands on the 
tombs, and burn incense before them, because 
they believe that the ghosts of the departed dwell 
there, and sit, each at the end of his own grave, 
enjoying the fragrance of these offerings. The 
Church yards in the environs of Paraguay were 
so many Gardens. The graves were regularly 
arranged and bordered with the sweetest plants 
and flowers, and the walks were planted with 
orange trees and palms. The Moravians, in 
their missions, observe the same regularity and 
decency. The name which they give to a burial 
ground, is God's Ground." 

Since 1776 all interments in churches and cities 
have been prohibited in France, and to this prohi- 
bition may be referred the origin of the beautiful 
cemetery of Pere la Chaise, situated just without 
the walls of Paris. The ground is described as "laid 
out with taste and elegance, diversified in position. 



20 

beautified with shrubs and flowers, and appro- 
priately adorned with monuments — some inter- 
esting from their historical recollections, some 
touching from the simplicity and tenderness of 
their inscriptions, all neat, decent, and appropri- 
ate to the solemnity of the scene." But why 
go to other countries or other times, for illustra- 
tions of the promptings of natural taste, or the dic- 
tates of affectionate regard for the living, or the 
remains of the dead, in the selection of becoming 
places of sepulture. In our own fresh, fair land, 
in its early settlement and sparse population, a 
chosen spot in the cultivated field was the planters 
burial ground, and every grave by the tree of 
the orchard became a rural cemetery. So rest 
the bones of many a Pilgrim Patriot ; — the raised 
sod his monument, and his epitaph written only 
on the hearts of those, who reverently laid him be- 
neath it. 

An able and interesting report, recently made 
by the trustees, and given to the public, has anti- 
cipated the exposition which I had intended, of 
the design, and progress, and completion of this 
Cemetery ground : — and what more remains for 
me now to say ? Standing here in your midst, with 
all the preparation of the place in full view before 
us, it needs not, that I point you to its picturesque 
beauties, or mark how art has improved, or taste 
embellished, the loveliness of nature. The broad 
avenue, and the winding path are before you. 



21 

The open plain, the gently rismg hill, the easy 
sloping declivity, the natural rivulet, and the 
miniature lake of artificial creation, are among the 
diversified objects of this attractive spot. Here 
are the deep shade of the evergreen tree, and 
the pure cold water of the perennial fountain, to 
sooth and refresh the weary and the disconsolate. 
Even solitude's self may here find retirement, and 
melancholy her chosen food for meditation. In 
the capaciousness and diversity of the grounds, 
and the order of their arrangement, the require- 
ment of every taste will be satisfied. The head of 
the humble may be laid low in the glen, and the 
green moss gather upon the dampness of the 
grave stone, or the ashes of the world's favored 
ones be mingled with the dust of the hillock, and 
the sculptured marble upon the mound, proclaim 
the end of earth's greatness. Sympathies and feel- 
ings will select the spot where congenial associa- 
tions cluster, and that spot will become sacred to 
affection and the love of virtue. Religion shall 
find here, a temple in every grove, and prayer 
an altar on every mound. The throng of the idle 
multitude shall not obtrude within these walks, 
nor the din of the world's cares disturb the quiet 
of these shades, nor the footsteps of business cross 
the pathway to the tomb, nor the swift heel of 
pleasure press the bosom of the fresh tenant of the 
grave. It was a sentiment of piety beautifully ex- 
pressed, that " a Burial Ground should be a sol- 



22 

emn object to man, because in this manner, it 
easily becomes a source of useful instruction, and 
desirable impressions. But when placed in the 
centre of a Town, in the current of daily inter- 
course, it is rendered too familiar to the eye to 
have any beneficial effect on the heart. From 
its proper venerable character, it is degraded into 
a mere common object, and speedily loses all its 
connexion with the invisible world in a gross and 
vulgar union with the ordinary business of life." 
And so, in truth, it is. I stood, my Friends, a 
few days since, with a melancholy and mortified 
heart, within the enclosures of our oldest Burial 
Grounds : — sacred spots ; how desecrated and ne- 
glected ! Well does the emphatic language, in the 
report of the Trustees, apply to their condition. 
" The state into which they have fallen, shows 
little reverence or regard for those who sleep be- 
neath their sods. There are not within our terri- 
tory, any outlots or distant appendages of any of 
the farms, more rough, overgrown with brambles, 
bushes, and weeds, or desolate or forbidding than 
our elder Burial places. Indeed, amid the neat 
cultivation around, they seem the only spots, 
which are entirely neglected and abandoned to de- 
cay." The dilapidated wall of the " old Grave 
Yard" is not even a defence against the inroads of 
the stray cattle of the streets, while the public 
situation of the place, in the centre of the Com- 
mon, and with roads on all sides, exposes it to every 



23 

mean and vulgar encroachment of man. The sur- 
face of the earth is broken and uneven — Many 
graves are without monuments, and many monu- 
ments are crumbling, or fallen. There is neither 
order, nor decency of appearance, nor protection, 
in this Home of the Dead. It seems, indeed, an 
unheeded and forgotten place, by which, men pass 
unconscious. Were the Inhabitants generally, as 
well aware of its present state, as I have been 
made by recent observation, they would need no 
stronger incentive to a double purpose ; to clear, 
and secure, and seal inviolably that Ground from 
further intrusion, and give to this Cemetery the in- 
terest of a personal concern, in their own last hab- 
itation. 

It was assigned as a reason, by the Romans, 
for the prohibition, in the law of the Twelve Ta- 
bles, that no dead body should be buried or burn- 
ed within the City, and no sepulchre should be 
built, or funeral pile raised within 60 feet of any 
house, without the consent of the owner of the 
house, that "burial was designed not for the sake 
of the dead, but of the living." The attention of 
the medical faculty, both in Europe and this Coun- 
try, has been arrested, by the incongruous proxim- 
ity and unwholesome associations of the habita- 
tions of the living with the receptacles of the dead, 
and every where are efforts now making to remove 
the Sepulchres from the midst of cities and popu- 
lous villages. I will not detain you with a recital 



24 

of the offensive and loathsome facts, alike prejudi- 
cial to health as destructive of enjoyment, which 
recent inquiries on this subject, have elicited. 
They have not been made known, without their 
proper effect, in already causing a discontinuance 
of interments in many of our large cities. New 
York has now her suburban burial places. Phila- 
delphia has planted, on Laurel Hill, her "Field 
of Peace ;" — and near our own metropolis, in sol- 
emn order, but unrivalled beauty, stands lovely 
Mount Auburn, — " Garden of Graves" ! Many 
of our principal towns are following these salutary 
examples, and w^e trust, the time is not far distant, 
when regard to health, and a cultivated senti- 
ment of propriety will give to all our burial places 
the retired situation, and tasteful arrangement, of 
a 7'ural cemetery. 

It becomes not the delicacy of my personal rela- 
tion to the liberal donors of the property in these 
beautiful grounds, that I should express, as another 
might well do, the language of eulogy upon their 
acts of munificence. The gift is an acceptable 
offering, and through the agency of an association, 
having the approval of the Representatives of the 
people, and the protection of the law, the land has 
been prepared, and with this day's solemnities, is 
forever devoted to its sacred uses, in receiving the 
remains, and perpetuating the memory of the 
dead. Let there be, now, no querulous and unsea- 
sonable objections to its contemplated occupancy. 



25 

The right of proprietorship is, of necessity, by 
purchase, for the sole purpose of the creation of a 
fund, made absolutely requisite to the care and 
preservation of the cemetery. The price is, pro- 
bably, within the ability of most of those, whose 
inclination or taste w^ould lead them to seek a rest- 
ing place for themselves, and their loved ones, in 
the silent retreat, beneath the deep shade of the 
funereal grove. Some, doubtless, from habits of 
thought and early association will continue to pre- 
fer the more usual and familiar places of inter- 
ment : others will be indifferent : and a few there 
mail be, whose narrow means will deny them here, 
the indulgence of the possession of a burying 
ground. But let none complain, for so it is with 
all worldly acquirements. Situation and circum- 
stances should control the desires as they rule the 
destinies of men. Many of the gratifications which 
the place can offer, will be the gratuitous enjoy- 
ment of all. Its clean paths, and tranquil groves, 
and soft air fragrant with the pine ; its mausolea 
and monuments ; the modest, ceaseless, ever vary- 
ing productions of nature, and the tasteful and 
appropriate decorations of art, will invite hither, 
the free access of every visitor. They will add 
another, also, to the many attractions of our inter- 
esting town, in the eyes of strangers, and thus 
give increased inducements to a residence among 
us. 

4 



26 

Nor let the apprehension be indulged, of want 
of capacity in the extent of the grounds, for the 
requirements of future accommodation. They are 
ample, beyond the anticipation of need, for many 
years to come, and if, hereafter, there shall be 
greater demand, such is the favorable situation of 
the place, that the occasion would furnish both 
opportunity and means for enlargement. 

The task which was assigned me, is now per- 
formed. I pause here, in thoughtful contempla- 
tion ! We stand, this day, upon the virgin soil of 
this fair field, with which no crumbling clay of hu- 
manity ever yet has mingled. Tomorrow, it may 
be ours to inhabit it. Henceforth, when we here 
assemble, it will be, in silence and in tears, to 
commit the remains of some loved one to the dust 
over which we have trodden ; and again and again, 
shall the grave be opened, until, one after another, 
all shall be gathered to their mother Earth. But, 
" thanks be to God !" in the touching eloquence of 
an Address, delivered on a like occasion with the 
present, with which I conclude : " Thanks be 
to God ! the evils which he permits have their 
attendant mercies. The voice of consolation will 
spring up in the midst of the silence of these regions 
of death. The mourner will revisit these shades 
with a secret, though melancholy pleasure. The 
hand of friendship will delight to cherish the flow- 
ers and the shrubs that fringe the lowly grave, 
or the sculptured monument. Spring will invite 



27 

hither the footsteps of the young by its opening 
foliage ; and Autumn detain the contemplative by 
its latest bloom. The votary of learning and sci- 
ence will here learn to elevate his genius by the 
holiest studies. The devout will here offer up the 
silent tribute of pity, or the prayer of gratitude. 
The rivalries of the world will here drop from the 
heart ; the spirit of forgiveness will gather new 
impulses ; the selfishness of avarice will be check- 
ed ; the restlessness of ambition will be rebuked ; 
vanity will let fall its plumes ; and pride, as it sees 
' what shadows we are, and what shadows we pur- 
sue,' will acknowledge the value of virtue as far, 
immeasurably far, beyond that of fame." 



APPENDIX. 



At a meeting of the Proprietors of the Rural Cemetery in 
Worcester, on Monday the twenty-seventh day of August, 1838, 
it was ordered, that the report presented by the trustees, be 
printed under the direction of the secretary, for the purpose of 
explaining to the public, the purposes of the association, and 
giving information of the progress of a work designed for the 
common benefit. The report follows : 

REPORT. 

The Rural Cemetery in Worcester having been so far com- 
pleted that the ground may now be dedicated to the dead, the 
Trustees respectfully submit to the Proprietors a statement of 
the origin and progress of the work, and of the arrangements 
which have been made to effect the purposes of the association. 

It was long desired, that a cemetery should be formed, where 
those who had lost relatives and friends, could gather the relics 
of the departed members of their families, and deposite the re- 
mains of those who were dear to them, with confidence that 
they should rest undisturbed. The difficulty of procuring funds 
for the purchase, enclosure, ornament, and preservation of a 
suitable tract of land, delayed the execution of the plans pro- 
posed to accomplish the object. 

The condition of the public burial places, and the changes 
which had visited or threatened them, strongly illustrated the 
necessity of making permanent provision for the security of the 
sepulchres of the dead. More than one hundred and fifty years 
had passed since Worcester was first settled. Some of the ear- 
liest planters were slain, bravely defending from the savage, the 



30 

soil they had redeemed out of the wilderness : some were cut off 
by the sudden incursions of the Indian enemy : some perished 
by hardship and sickness ; and they were buried in the fields 
they had cultivated. The memorials raised over their graves 
had been obliterated, and even the spots where those graves 
were made, had been forgotten. The burial place where twenty- 
eight others of the first dead were deposited, known by tradition 
and record, had been desecrated and applied to common uses, the 
mounds levelled, and the headstones scattered. The more re- 
cent cemeteries, once retired and solitary, had been surrounded 
with the buildings of an increasing population. By the con- 
struction of the Boston Railroad, portions of the two most mod- 
ern burial fields, had been thrown into that highway. It seem- 
ed probable, in the rapid course of improvement, that the ne- 
cessity of furnishing convenient homes for the living, might, at 
no distant period, require the entire removal of the habitations 
of the dead. The conversion of a part of these grounds into 
roads, shew, that even the veneration for the departed was 
compelled to yield to the demands of public accommodation. 
The neglected condition they exliibited, held out warnings, that 
when the children who revered the parents should be gone, that 
briars and weeds might spring over the graves of their fathers, 
and that in future time, carriages might be driven over their 
dust, when those who would have protected it from violation, 
were themselves gathered to their rest. 

In the year 1S35, the inhabitants of Worcester in their muni- 
cipal capacity, purchased about twenty acres of land westward 
of the village for a burial place. It was resolved that this field 
should be encompassed with walks, and ornamented with shade 
trees. Many individuals endeavored to obtain from the town 
consent that a portion of the lots should be conveyed by grants 
to any person who would pay the compensation of ten dollars 
for each, and to his heirs forever, that by gaining a title and 
vested right, the perpetual use of a little spot to bury their dead 
might be secured ; but the request was urged without success. 
It was provided, that the head of a family, after any of the inmates 



31 

of his household had deceased, might designate an allotted space 
on the plan ; but the possession must necessarily be retained, 
subject to the same contingencies which had been experienced 
in the other grounds. Tliat uuaUenahle and perpetual occupan- 
cy, which can only be obtained by a grant of the soil itself, did 
not follow on this arrangement. It prevented all previous em- 
bellishment of the land, by restraining the selection to the hour 
when the visit of death had made the home desolate, and pressed 
too heavily on the hearts of its inmates to permit their thoughts 
to be busied with the choice of graves: and it excluded all those 
who had not been so happy as to have families around them, 
from seeking, for their departed friends, a resting place in that 
cemetery. Recently, after one interment had taken place in 
this field, the town voted that it should be sold, and a fresh in- 
stance was thus given of the uncertainty of the destination of 
the public burial places. 

With the view of securing a place for the dead which should 
not be subject to tlie changes and casualties desecrating other 
grounds, the Hon, Daniel Waldo selected and purchased a tract 
of land, containing nearly nine acres, situated about half a mile 
north from the Court House, at the cost of §1400. An associ- 
ation having been formed, to receive the gift of this land, and to 
prepare it for the uses contemplated, in order to give as much 
perpetuity as it was possible to bestow, an act of the legislature 
of Massachusetts was obtained, approved Feb. 23, 1838, grant- 
ing corporate powers to those who should become proprietors, 
and appointing the lands they should ^c(\\me, forever , for a Ru- 
ral Cemetery, and for the erection of monuments in memory of 
the dead. The first meeting of the corporation, was held March 
15, 1S3S, when by-laws were established, and trustees elected 
to take the care of the common property ctnd business. Mr. 
Waldo conveyed the land he had purchased, gratuitously and 
without any pecuniary consideration, reserving only for himself 
a lot 20 feet square. On examination, it was found that a more 
extensive front upon the road would be needed, and Stephen 
Salisbury, Esq., made a donation of about half an acre of land. 



32 

covered with fine forest trees, forming a valuable addition to the 
grounds. 

While the primary purpose of the cemetery was to secure the 
undisturbed rest of the dead in all future years, in forming a 
burial place, it was desirable to follow the examples which have 
been approved by public taste, at Mount Auburn, and in the vici- 
nity of the cities and large towns. 

A topographical survey and plan of the ground was made by 
James Barnes, Esq., the accomplished engineer of the "Western 
Rail-road. The surface having been cleared and smoothed, 
avenues and paths were constructed, under the superintendence 
of some of the trustees, and of an experienced landscape gar- 
dener. Neat and substantial fences were erected along the 
boundary lines. The lots have been laid out by Mr. C. H. 
Hill, a skilful and accurate surveyor, and the cemetery is now 
prepared to be consecrated by the prayers of the living to the 
repose of the dead. 

The surface is beautifully undulating. Without bold swells 
or steep hills, it exhibits many eminences of graceful outline, 
and valleys of gentle declivity. On the north and south sides it 
is belted with the original forests. The area is principally cov- 
ered with trees of moderate size and stature, and fair appear- 
ance. Through the middle, flows a small rivulet, which may be 
spread out by artificial works, so as to form the best ornament 
of the sceTiery. A little pond, without inlet or outlet, exists at 
the foot of one of the knolls, so supplied from a perennial spring 
that its waters neither overflow the margin nor leave the bed 
dry. The walks, sweeping in gentle curves around the promi- 
nent points, have been laid, with reference both to convenience 
and embellishment, so as to afford ready access to every part, 
and to increase the natural beauty. 

The expenses incurred for clearing, ornamenting, and pre- 
paring the grounds, and for erecting fences, have amounted to 
the sum of 81000. Some of the trustees have devoted many 
weeks of labor and attention to the execution of the plan with- 
out compensation. 



33 

The trustees have proposed to consecrate the ground by appro- 
priate exercises, on Saturday, the eighth of September next. 
An address will be delivered, and religious services performed, 
at three o'clock of the afternoon of that day. 

As the proprietors have acquired by donation the site which 
would have cost sixteen hundred dollars for the purchase, it 
miffht be supposed, that after the repayment of the expenditures 
already incurred, the owners might make partition of the lots 
among themselves, without charge. It is obvious, however, that 
future expenses must be met for the purpose of keeping the ave- 
nues and passages in repair, maintaining that perfect neatness, in 
itself the highest ornament, preserving the monuments which may 
be erected from dilapidation, renewing the inscriptions as they 
shall grow indistinct by decay, constructing a receiving tomb, 
and improving the tract already owned. For these objects, it 
becomes desirable to form a fund, the income of which may be 
appropriated for the preservation and ornament of the cemetery. 
That all who desire may be enabled to procure a spot where 
their kindred and friends may rest secure from removal, the lots 
are to be offered for sale at public auction, immediately after 
the services of the dedication. Whatever any individual may 
pay for a burial place, will be applied to his own benefit, by the 
appropriation of the funds raised by the sale, under the direction 
of the proprietors, to the purposes of the cemetery. 

The lots have been laid out along the paths and avenues. 
Each extends fifteen feet on the front and twenty feet to the 
rear, and contains three hundred square feet of surface. The 
trustees, having estimated the sum necessary for the preserva- 
tion of the ground, have fixed a valuation on the lots, with refe- 
rence to the probable expense of preparing the space for monu- 
ments, varying from twenty-one to thirty-five dollars each. 

Every purchaser of a lot becomes a member of the corpora- 
tion, entitled to a vote in its meetings, and to direct the applica- 
tion and use of its property. The character of the monuments 
to be erected is left to the taste and feeling of the proprietor, 
and to his own peculiar views of the mode in which he will per- 
petuate the memory of his ancestors, or his own name. 

5 



34 

It has been the intention of the liberal donors of the ceme- 
tery, and of those who have associated to give practical effect to 
their views, at the least possible charge which would enable 
them to attain the object, to furnish to every citizen the oppor- 
tunity to be proprietor of a perpetual and honorable place of 
burial for his kindred. The most ancient grounds, where the 
ancestors of some of our inhabitants repose, have been destroy- 
ed, and the graves of thirty-eight members of the families of the 
earliest husbandmen of Worcester cannot be distinguished from 
the common earth. Those more recent church-yards, which 
have been closed by municipal authority, now brought amid the 
noises of business and the crowded buildings of the town may 
possibly be traversed by new highways, or devoted to other 
uses. The state into which they have fallen shows little reve- 
rence or regard for those who sleep beneath their sods. There 
are not within our territory, any out-lots or distant appendages of 
any of the farms, more rough, overgrown with brambles, bushes, 
and weeds, or desolate and forbidding than our elder burial 
places. Indeed, amid the neat cultivation around, they seem 
the only spots which are entirely neglected and abandoned to 
decay. Should the plan proposed meet with public favor, we 
may safely trust, that the graves of those we have revered and 
loved, made amid the quiet walks and tranquil shades of the 
cemetery we have formed, will remain unmolested, and that 
neither play ground, road, nor mart for merchandise, will be 
established over their relics. 

All which is respectfully submitted. 

WILLIAM LINCOLN, Secretary. 



LINES 

ON THE DEDICATION OF THE RURAL CEMETERY. 



Tim following lines on the Consecration of the Rural Cemetery were first puhlishe.i in 
the .National ^Egis. 

Home of the coming dead ! 
The spot whereon wo tread, 

Is hallowed ground : 
Here earth in sacred tru.st, 
Shall iiold their sleeping dust, 
I'Xitil her honds they hm-st. 

And rise unhonud. 

Here shall the weary rest, 
And souls with woes oppress'd, 

No more shall weep : 
And youth and age shall come, 
And heauty in her bloom, 
And manhood to the tomb : 

Sweet be their sleep ! 

Around their lowly bed, 

Sliall flowers their fragrance shed, 

And Ijirds shall sing : 
On every verdant moimd, 
Love's oftering shall be found, 
And sighing^trees around. 

Their shadows fling. 

The stars all night shall keep, 
Their vigils while they sleep : 
And the pale inoon 



36 

Shall lend her gentle raj', 
To light the mommer's "vvay, 
Who seeks at eve to stray, 
And weep alone. 

Eut there's a liolier light ! 
Hope with her taper bright, 

On every tomb, 
Points upward to the sky : 
There every tear is dry : 
Tliere is no mourner's sigh, 

Nor death nor gloom. 

Father ! to Tlict Ave bow 
In adoraiion now. 

And bless thy love. 
For the assurance given 
Of life with Thee in Heaven : 
Though here by tempests driven. 

There's rest above. 



K 



LB '09 



.•'.UW 





